


Prowling For Krakens

by Deiwimin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Demon, M/M, Manipulation, REALLY WHUMPY, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Rough handling, Slight horror, Smut, Thramsay is its own warning, incubus!AU, non-con, sleep rape, wrote this too fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deiwimin/pseuds/Deiwimin
Summary: Theon has an unwanted guest in the latest hours, and with the worst expectations for a host.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	Prowling For Krakens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fsOctopi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fsOctopi).



> Got a surge to write it out after Octopi sprung this AU up.

No. Not again. Theon stayed awake for the entire night, _it_ would never return, surely. He had a dagger in his hand, readied. His eyes hadn't closed since the night before, and still, here now feels the deceptive zephyr in his face, under the sheets, and now he clutches onto them in dread. The cursed, hostile air. He had the thought as his head pounded in alertness. wanted to believe it was all a vision, dream. A horrible, cruel dream. Last night he was unsuspecting, so naively close-eyed, taken in slumber.

xXx

He was awoken by a sharpest ache. His first sight; eyes shone silver, his first sounds were obscene, invasive grunts. The eyes which glowed of feyful lust. Then his senses dawned upon his own wide spread legs, stretched out. Perfectly accommodating to the body atop of him, causing him terror and pain. When he tried to scream and push the beast away, it weighed its entirety on him, and took him with even more brutality. Its clawed, fleshy hand had already covered half his face. His scream became an untamed wail. He kicked and thrashed about as it moved roughly inside him, but it was unrelenting. Breathing as hard as he; it, of pleasure, and he, of panic and his struggles.

Theons toes curled from frustration, his legs strained in fear and hatred, and the thing licked and bit hard into his neck. Theon cried out; then he felt his own blood trail down his back. He later sobbed; “no…nO, no...” But he wouldn’t be heard.

The beast as if fed by his fright and tears, grew larger fast, and opened him up further still. Theon shrieked in that hand, the rough invasion tearing him apart. When it ended, Theon had thick seed and dark blood soaking in between his thighs.

It never made a leave. It simply went and was gone. It was simply not.

In the morning he would barely tread. He burned the sheets and furs. Theon felt a phantom. Tonight he slept not a sliver; staring at the barred window and thrice locked door. But he still felt the damning presence of the creature that took his security. In a rage and helplessness he spoke. “Is this...is this revenge? Punishment for a ‘crime’? He had the feeling subside and found some boldness left. “You want to avenge the Starks, you stupid beast? Ned Stark is Dead!” He shouted decisively in the empty dark. But as soon as he stopped the thing was there, pouncing on him. Theon flailed and swung the dagger across at the creature, aiming in desperation. He slashed its chest, and with the tightest grip, Theon felt his forearm break. The agony choked his scream and the thing stuffed a cloth down his mouth, muffling him.

The dagger had fallen sliding off the bed, and onto the floor.

Then he heard a dark, gravely voice. _”Starks? Punishment? **This** is a gift.”_ It laughed, and brought its heavy hand over his throat, squeezing the resistance out of him. Theon tensed, and used his fingers prying, trying to cease the blazing suffocation. In alarm he writhed as the thing used its strength to flip Theon on his stomach, keeping itself settled between his legs. The pain from his arm bound him in place. 

It forced itself in him again, and Theon grunted and groaned between sobs, demanding it to stop through the cloth in his mouth. His drool was running on the bed now, and his face covered itself with it. It growled wildly at Theon when he quietly asked the creature to be gentler.

“You think you can escape me? I now have my prey, and I follow where you flee, where you’ve keys on your locks and bars on your gates.”

It sighed in lust as it deepened the thrusting, stretching, forcing Theon open, over and over, more.

He would tell no one. Declared mad he would be. And what exactly could he say?

xXx

Theon attempted to save himself from other nights. He changed chambers, he slept next to other beds, he kept a sword. He spent his nights standing, ready for running. He prayed to his god. But it came for Theon all the same, threatening him with waking the other, throwing blades clean off his grip, taking him rougher; for longer times, the more he tried to avoid and repel it. He even begged now. Theon slept in the daytime, and left his eyes seeking frantically at dark. The beast had wings, of that he could glimpse at times. It had fanged teeth that tore at him in annoyance, hunger or pleasure. It was larger than Theon in frame, and the eyes violated his soul.

Theon soon had to use Kyra. He tried feeling her teats. But what he saw was the demon running its hands all over his breast. When she used her mouth on his cock, Theon remembered the time the demon groped and fiddled with his body. He finally sent her away.

He now jumped at sounds, and his bladder rushed him. Was he a man truly, he would have slain the monstrosity that caused him torment, just like the old tales and poetry.

He remembered in flashes, happenings before the first night. Something may have quite tugged his locks, or perhaps the briefest feeling that some...thing, gripped his arm, was real after all. And Theon let it advance at himself. He let a fiend into his bed, and there; into him, every night. Theon felt sick. He could not bear any touch now.

Theon accepted it then, and let it do what it would, claw him bleeding. Cutting him raw, and having its way with the kraken. Soon the creature whispered cruelties to him, and it needn’t say, for Theon to believe it all.

One night it came sauntering for him, and it had an impossible sway. The demon murmured kindly to him, thus inspiring greater terror than his first rape. It held Theon’s hips gentle, dragged its tongue up his spine. Theon stiffened, yet something intoxicating was in the air. He felt a heavy palm rubbing between his legs. It gave Theon tingles, and he suddenly held his breath hard. His head felt hot and blinded. None had pleasured his cock in weeks, and he finally found himself fully aroused by the perfect strokes. As the hand grazed his sack, Theon breathed out, panting. When it pinned him on his bed Theon was fearful, but meekly opened his thighs. He noticed in his humiliation, that he was still excited from the handling.

The creature touched him again, overwhelming the lordling’s senses. Theon unwillingly let out a small sound, and the creature seemed pleased with him. _“I’ve had enough meat for now. Tonight I crave honey.”_ Its lips touched Theon’s neck, and Theon so expected a piercing pain. But it only sucked and suckled on him; like the honey he promised. Theon felt a heat welling like none before. He moaned and twisted, and the demon tugged at his shaft, and continued on, brushing against his shiny cockhead.

He kissed Theon for the first time, and that tongue burned of something unnatural. A shudder passed his entire body and the creature pressed him down on his back, slowly pushing himself into Theon, hungering for his tightness.

His hole stretched a slight painful, but could not compare to every other union. After the initial entry, Theon’s nerves calmed. The creature thrust into him slower; so kind, Theon almost enjoyed himself. Then he tapped a jolting knub, and Theon yelped, reaching to hold his devil, whimpering every time he stirred him so. Theon did not even mind the nails, digging and sliding themselves down his skin. Theon panted as deep and fast as the wingéd fiend. Theon came startled and dazed, a moment before hot seed poured in, claiming him shamefully. Theon’s fever hadn’t left him until he heard _his_ voice again.

_”You’re mine.”_

He disappeared and Theon’s spirit drowned.

Theon never stopped thinking of the words, and he waited for the next night, where he would inevitably be used. Would he want Theon’s tears again? Had anything changed? Perhaps the night before _was_ the one dream Theon ever had.

He did not come that day, or the next. By the third night Theon pretended to sleep. Was this a test, he would surely show now.

He hadn’t been there. He was far away then. Flown. Wrested his pride and and so mest more.

_You’re Mine._

He couldn’t have known what awaited him in the great hall days later. “He says they call him Reek.” When this Reek turned his face to Theon he found his dooming ice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! ❤️  
> 


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